


The Emergency Bed-Share/Move In With Us Combo

by rizlowwritessortof



Series: Dean and Toby [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: F/M, Fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-10
Updated: 2020-02-10
Packaged: 2021-02-26 11:31:48
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,322
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22648411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rizlowwritessortof/pseuds/rizlowwritessortof
Summary: A couple of years down the road from Part 1...
Relationships: Dean x Toby (female OC)
Series: Dean and Toby [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1629223
Kudos: 4





	The Emergency Bed-Share/Move In With Us Combo

Dean!” Sam’s voice echoed through the room, and Dean’s eyes snapped to his brother, one hand reaching out to catch the accurately-tossed pistol. He flicked the safety off, firing without hesitation into the demon who was currently straddling Toby’s body, his hands around her throat.

“Get off her, you son of a bitch!” he shouted, moving closer as he continued firing. The demon finally toppled sideways, leaping to his feet with a snarl.

“Fine. I’ll take you out first.”

“You can try, asshole.” Dean crouched into a defensive position, bracing himself as the demon charged at him. He grappled him, throwing them both to the ground, taking the creature by surprise momentarily. “Goodbye, you evil prick,” he sneered, rolling away suddenly as Sam moved in from behind him, sinking the demon blade into its chest, watching with malice as the red glow flickered and died within its eyes.

“Dean, you okay?”

“Yeah.” He was scrambling towards Toby, who still laid unmoving on the filthy floor. “Toby. Tobe? Come on, sweetheart, tell me you’re okay.” His voice got a little louder as he put a hand on her shoulder. “Hey…”

She stirred with a pained groan, making a sudden move to sit up, but Dean’s hand held her gently in place. “Dean?”

“Yeah. Take it easy. We’re okay. The demon’s toast.” She winced as she moved, and Dean slipped an arm beneath her, supporting her shoulders and helping her sit up.

“Whoa… dizzy,” she mumbled, leaning into Dean’s body for support. “Guess he knocked me around pretty good. Blindsided me, I didn’t even see him coming.” She tilted her head back against his shoulder, her eyes trying to focus.

They filed into the room together, Sam and Dean dropping their bags and Sam heading straight towards the far bed. Toby made a quick sweep of the cramped space, noting the two regular-size beds and one misshapen, rather short sofa against the wall. “I’ll take the couch if I can have the first shower,” she said, and Dean waved a hand towards the tiny bathroom.

“Go ahead. Sure you’re okay?”

She shot him an eye roll, softened with a smile. “Think I can manage a quick shower.”

“Try to leave some hot water.”

She waved a dismissive hand, shuffling to her bag to grab what she needed, wanting nothing more than to curl up and go to sleep. Sam had just fallen, face-first, onto his bed, not uttering a word. She made her way to the bathroom, pulling the door closed behind her, numbly shedding her clothes and turning the water on.

She scrubbed herself quickly, washed her hair and got out, too tired and her head throbbing too badly to even enjoy standing under the hot water to ease her aching muscles. She dressed for bed and wrapped a towel around her head, calling out, “Next!” as she stepped out, making her way to the couch to sit and finish towel-drying her hair. By the time Dean was finished with his shower, she was sound asleep, the one extra blanket in the room draped over her.

He glanced over at his brother. Sam was down for the count, too, so he crawled between the rough motel sheets and fell asleep almost immediately, in spite of the aches and pains.

~~~~~~~~~~

Toby woke with a hiss, almost falling off the couch as she recoiled from the stabbing pain in her hip. She stood up carefully, grabbing her phone from the small table beside her and aiming it at the lumpy sofa as she pulled the covers back. A jagged piece of spring had pierced the ancient plaid upholstery, and she could feel a burning sting where it had carved a deep scratch down the side of her hip and thigh. “Awesome,” she whispered to herself with an impatient sigh.

She turned towards the beds. “Desperate times…” she muttered, looking back and forth between the two. Sam was starfished across the entire surface of his bed, feet hanging off the sides and his arms splayed across the top portion. No way that was going to work.

She reluctantly eyed Dean’s bed. He, at least, was laying on his side, leaving a little space behind him. Better than nothing. And definitely better than being stabbed to death in her sleep. She grabbed her pillow and walked over to the bed, folding the covers back carefully and slipping in beside him. She turned her back, pulled the blankets up around her neck and gladly let sleep carry her away again.

She woke up, warm and cozy, light beginning to creep into the room through the cheap curtains. Her bladder was nagging her to get up, so she shifted to throw the covers off, but moving was not an option.

Dean was wrapped around her, his feet tangled with hers, his arm over her holding her close, one large hand with a firm hold on her left breast.

She squeezed her eyes shut. She should have slept on the floor. Or in the car. This was bad.

She took a breath and moved, but he let out a forlorn little moan and pulled her closer. And, of course, her body completely betrayed her, her nipple hardening beneath his clutching hand. He nuzzled his nose into her hair and sighed, still in a deep sleep. Thank God.

She planned her escape, move by move, with the care of a Broadway choreographer, ready to act fast and get to the bathroom before Dean had the chance to be fully awake. Hopefully he’d never know it happened. Things went fairly smoothly, other than the fact that she ended up on all fours on the floor, but what do you expect when there’s no chance to rehearse? She sprang to her feet and almost ran to the bathroom, seeing the rosy flush on her face as she stared back from the mirror. “Oh, shut up,” she growled, turning away to head for the toilet.

The cut on her hip was stinging, and she looked down, touching it gingerly. “Probably catch herpes from that stupid couch.”

She sneaked out of the bathroom to grab her duffle, went back in and dressed, then left the room to walk down the block to the convenience store. Might as well get everyone some coffee. It had nothing to do with not wanting to be there when Dean woke up.

When she got back, she entered the room as quietly as possible. Sam was up, she could hear the shower. Dean was still out, but started to stir as she walked in. “Hey.”

“Morning, sleepyhead. Brought you some coffee,” she smiled, determinedly squashing the thoughts about how cute he looked with his tousled hair and drowsy eyes.

“You’re a goddess,” he said, his voice husky with sleep.

She turned her back, letting him climb out of bed and change, sipping at her coffee and sinking her teeth into the fresh pastry she had purchased with it. He reached around her for his coffee and dropped into a chair, his eyebrows bunched as he stared up at her, eyes narrowed in thought.

“Did you get in my bed last night?”

She felt her cheeks flush. “Uh… yeah. The couch? It tried to stab me. I’ve got a cut on my hip, hurt like a son of a bitch. So I had to invade your space, sorry.” He just kept looking at her, and she felt herself blushing again. “What?”

“Did I… uh… was I…?” He made a squeezing motion with his hand, and she clenched her jaw, her eyes squeezed shut in embarrassment.

“Yeah.”

He blew out a little breath, his gaze suddenly looking everywhere but at her. “Oh. I, uh – I’m sorry.”

“Don’t worry about it.”

“I just thought I was having an awesome dream.”

“Can we just forget about it, please?”

He nodded, chewing on his lip. “Yeah, sure. Yep. Never happened.” She turned her back to him, taking a swallow of hot coffee and almost enjoying the nearly scalding sensation in her throat. “So, let me see that cut.”

She whirled to face him. “No, Dean, it’s fine. Really.”

“Let me see it.” A smirk slowly curled the corner of his mouth. “I’ve put stitches in your ass, nothing I haven’t already seen.”

She laughed in spite of herself. “You would have to bring that up. You’re such an asshole.” She turned, undoing her jeans and pulling them down far enough to give him a glimpse. “See, it’s fine.”

“Shit, that looks like it hurt.” She almost jerked away when his fingers touched her, yanking her jeans back into place and turning her back to fasten them, grateful that she wasn’t facing him when he spoke softly again. “So… when I was, you know… I – uh – I didn’t _do_ anything, right? I mean…”

She answered him quietly, half-annoyed at herself for the jitters his touch had given her. “No, Dean. You were just – holding onto me.”

He let out a sigh of relief. “Good. I was… I mean, in my dream, I was definitely doing more than holding.”

She forced a laugh. “So, who was it? That blonde from the bar a couple months ago?”

He was silent for a minute or two, then cleared his throat. “It was you.” He stood and moved to his bag, stuffing yesterday’s clothes inside.

“Oh.” So much for ever looking him in the eye again. To her relief, Sam chose that moment to walk out of the bathroom.

Within half an hour, they were hauling their stuff out to the Impala. She climbed in the back, still distracted from the interaction with Dean, looking up with a sheepish expression when Sam asked, “So, where’s your car?”

“Wow, I almost forgot. It’s parked a few blocks from the demon house.”

She climbed behind the wheel of her car, key in the ignition, and muttered under her breath. “Please be a good girl and start for me. Don’t embarrass me in front of my friends.”

The old Ford whined and made a futile grinding noise, but didn’t turn over. She tried again, and then once more with the same result, and closed her eyes at the knock on her window.

“Pop the hood.” She nodded and complied, and Dean moved to the front of the car as she got out.

“She’s been kind of acting up lately.”

“Why didn’t you call me?”

“I didn’t want to bother you.”

He shot her a derisive look and turned back to his task. “Don’t be stupid, you wouldn’t be ‘bothering’ me. You don’t want to get stranded somewhere, do ya?”

“Yeah, well, just because you saved my life once doesn’t make you responsible for my piece-of-shit car.”

“Once?” he grinned, and she slapped his arm. He replaced the battery cable he’d been fiddling with. “Try her again.”

She got back inside and turned the key. “Come on, girl,” she encouraged, and after a couple of reluctant groans, the engine turned over. She gave a little cheer, patting the dash, and looking up at Dean, who was standing near the open door. His eyes were roaming over the packed back seat, and she felt her heart sink.

“What’s all this?” he motioned at the boxes and clothes piled behind her. “This case catch you in the middle of a move?”

“Um, yeah. I’m kind of – between places.”

“What does that mean?”

“I lost my apartment. Even though I paid in advance, landlord said if I wasn’t going to actually be there, his daughter needed a place. Just kind of booted me out. And I wasn’t there much, but I paid the damn rent. I just haven’t had time to look for another place.”

Dean looked at her, and she felt the color rise in her cheeks. If he knew that she’d been sleeping in her car for the past six weeks… When he focused his gaze on her like he was now, it almost seemed as if he could read her thoughts. “Well, Homeless – you could come back to the bunker with us. Not like we don’t have plenty of room. Plenty of rooms. And the rent’s reasonable. Damn near non-existent. Just have to take turns cooking.”

“Dean, I couldn’t…”

“Sammy! Tell her she can stay with us. She lost her apartment.”

“No, really…”

Sam came to stand beside his brother, arms folded. “Of course you’re gonna stay with us.” She looked up at the two of them and threw up her hands.

“Okay, okay. I give. No chance of winning an argument with both Winchesters at once.” She stopped, looking up at them with narrowed eyes. “This time.”

Sam laughed and Dean grinned, heading for the car. “Just honk if that pile of junk starts acting up again,” he called out, and she stuck her tongue out at him as she threw it in gear and backed up, waiting to follow.

Determined not to seem like a burden, Toby launched into cleaning the place within an inch of its life. Finally, tired of dodging buckets and mops and tripping over the contents of the kitchen cupboards, Dean put his foot down. “We didn’t ask you to stay so you could kill yourself cleaning the place. Just take it easy.”

“Yeah, well – I just want to earn my keep.”

He sighed. “You hunt with us, that earns plenty. Knock it the fuck off.” His harsh words were softened by his crooked smile, and she ducked her head, smiling in return.

“Okay, okay. No more cleaning.” She smiled even bigger as he pulled his hands from behind his back with a cold beer for each of them. “Thanks.” After a long pull from the bottle, she plopped down into a chair. “Speaking of hunting – do we have one?”

“When Sam gets back from the supply run, we’ll decide for sure. But, yeah – looks like we might have a vamp nest to deal with down near Tulsa.”


End file.
